The Farewell Season by Ann Herrick Read Free Book Online Page B

know?"
    "For starters," Glynnie said, her big gray-blue eyes sharp and assessing through her thick round glasses, "you could tell me what the heck is going on."
    "Going on?" I put on my best little-boy innocent look that worked so well on girls from two to ninety-two. "What do you mean?"
    "I mean, why on earth would you try to use me to make Hedy Theodore jealous?"
    "What?"
    "You put your hand on my shoulder after practice, just as Hedy walks by. Then, you're ready to throw me off your porch one second and cozying up to me on the swing the next. I mean, I am aware that your arm is perilously close to being around my shoulder."
    Caught. I withdrew my arm. I guess Glynnie was one of those rare females, besides Kirstin, who wasn't totally charmed by my angelic looks. "It wasn't the piano … it was the song."
    "What?"
    "It was the song that bothered me. It's okay to play the piano. Mom doesn't believe in having furniture that can't be used."
    "And the song has something to do with Hedy?"
    "No. Nothing like that." I took a deep breath. "I guess what I'm trying to do is apologize. Let's start over. Ask me something about football."
    "Oh, no." Glynnie shook her head. She was not easily distracted. "You can't throw out something like that comment about the song and not explain."
    I was floating in a foggy sea of emotions. Maybe if I just gave one big kick, I'd hit dry land. "My father used to sing that song. All the time. With Kirstin. They'd play a duet and sing. It was his favorite song."
    "Why, then," Glynnie asked softly, "did it make you angry to hear it?"
    "I don't know … I mean … that is … I'm sorry I blew up."
    Glynnie sat there, staring at me, not in shock, but thoughtfully.
    "I'm beat," I said. "I'll see you." Without waiting for a response, I got up, went into the house and straight to my room. I flung myself on my bed and pounded the mattress.
    Damn! Damn … Why did I act like such a jerk about Glynnie playing the piano? What was wrong with me, anyway?
     
     
    Chapter Six
     
     
    I must've fallen asleep, because next thing I knew my face was buried in my pillow and Starburst was scratching at the window screen.
    I sat up, opened the screen for Starburst and tried to think. What time was it? I checked my watch. Quarter to three. Rolf would be here soon.
    Suddenly my face burned. I'd left Glynnie on the porch swing. For a second, I pictured her still sitting there, waiting for me to come back and answer questions. I almost laughed at the idea. Persistent as she was, I was sure Glynnie wasn't the sort of girl who'd cool her heels for two hours for anybody.
    Starburst rubbed against my arm, meowing insistently in her I'm-ready-to-be-fed voice. I scratched her head. "Okay, okay."
    When I stood up I realized how tired I was, and how hot. I had another two hours of practice in front of me. Trying not to step on Starburst as she led me downstairs to the kitchen, I felt the aches and pains that would only get worse by tomorrow.
    "Okay, what'll it be?" I asked as I surveyed the selection of cat food. "How 'bout Seafood Stew?"
    Starburst rubbed against my leg and purred her approval.
    As I spooned some gooey nuggets of Seafood Stew into Starburst's food bowl and refilled her water dish, I thought about what a great life she had and wondered if she appreciated it. Would she miss me when I went away to college? She acted real weird after Dad died, so I thought she knew he was gone and that it bothered her. But who could tell for sure? She was back to her old routine and her life seemed right on track.
    Suddenly, Kirstin and Rolf spilled into the kitchen.
    "There he is." Kirstin pointed at me. "With the only living creature he shows any concern for besides himself."
    "That's 'cause Starburst is the only female under sixteen in this house who shows me any respect," I shot back.
    "She's eighty-four in human years," Kirstin replied. "You know how those grandmother types like to fuss over you."
    "All females like to fuss over me,"